Progenial Martyrdom

My subconscious state of being fused with the horrors of which my eyes perceive When does tomorrow begin when the hurt of yesterday has yet to leave The smallest likelihood of seeing tomorrow The desecration of all those who flee A violent detrimental time for our species They cannot run Walls are black Sanctuary of sleep hasn't found its way Obfuscated state of mind This nightmare, not confined to night My brothers and my sisters painfully stripped of their essence Their bones become shrouded in smoke Making martyrs of the young as the ash coats my lungs Over my shoulder, they rain from above Love will prevail, but no love will ever undo this hell Level the lands Carpet bomb the sands No one gets out Blood will soak all hands Progeny be damned Bloodline complete Killing the weak Cull the meek There is no savior on the path you seek Indiscriminate Hate You're far too late You better hope they open the gates as I kiss this seal on your fate The victor writes the story (the victor writes the story) Tomorrow's youth will celebrate (celebrate) If a bomb drops in the forest, does it make a sound (in the forest, does it make a sound) A sound only the dead will know